


In Which Aziraphale Struggles a Lot and Crowley... Sleeps, Mostly.

by Estrella3791



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Angst, Awake The Snake, Aziraphale Loves Crowley (Good Omens), But it's October, Crowley Loves Aziraphale (Good Omens), Fluff, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, More fluff than angst I think, Neil Gaiman's Tumblr, Overwhelmed Crowley (Good Omens), Phone Calls, Post-Episode: Good Omens: Lockdown, Sleepy Crowley
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-01
Updated: 2020-10-01
Packaged: 2021-03-08 02:00:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,693
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26747716
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Estrella3791/pseuds/Estrella3791
Summary: Inspired directly by both the Awake the Snake movement and that Neil Gaiman post about how Crowley would wake up in July, look around, and set his alarm clock for October.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 59





	In Which Aziraphale Struggles a Lot and Crowley... Sleeps, Mostly.

**Author's Note:**

> I already wrote something along these lines for the ineffable husbands au week, but I'm doing it again. I have no idea as to the quality of it because it was written at like 2 in the morning and I have class in five minutes and no time to proof read.  
> Happy October, friends!

_“Hi, this is Anthony Crowley. You know what to do; do it with style.”_

**_Message received June 2, 2020._**

“Hello, Crowley, this is Aziraphale. I was wondering - well, it was a bit silly of me, but I was wondering if perhaps you’d decided to forego the extra month of your nap. I understand, of course, why you feel compelled to sleep through all of this - _dreadful_ things are happening, and I am completely powerless to stop them, and it is _most_ unpleasant - but I had hoped... Never mind. I hope you sleep well, dear boy.”

_**Beep** _ _**.** _

_**Message received June 10, 2020.** _

“Hello, it’s Aziraphale again. I presume from your lack of response that you’re still sleeping. But just allow me to tell you what has been going on...

_**Several minutes later...** _

And it’s been incredibly dreary to be facing all this alone. I’m sure you would understand if you were awake. And... well, never mind. I hope you sleep well, Crowley.”

_Beep_.

_**Message received June 29, 2020.** _

“Me again. I must say, my dear boy, I am _so_ looking forward to seeing you in a few days! I - oh, dear. I do hope that you’re planning on waking up earlier in the month as opposed to later, because it all gets to be a bit... well. It’s a bit overwhelming without you, Crowley, to speak plainly. I quite miss our little chats. If you - well, I can’t imagine how overwhelming it will be to wake up to it all, but I’ll be here, you know, if you ever wanted to - er - discuss current events. Perhaps over a glass of wine? We can form ‘bubbles,’ now, you know. I’m sure it would be lovely to have you at the bookshop, if you were inclined to come visit. Which you could, because of bubbles. That is to say - oh, bother it all, Crowley, I’m sure you know what I mean. Please telephone me once you’ve woken up. There’s no rush, of course. But I would quite like to hear from you. Well, anyway. I hope the last bit of your nap is deeply restful.”

_Beep_.

_**Message received July 3, 2020.** _

“Hello. I know that you’re asleep again, but I was m - making some, er, cakes, and they’re - I’m waiting for - I wanted to speak - hrm. I appreciate you informing me on the extension of your nap, of course, and understand the motivation behind it, but I had hoped that maybe - well. Thank you very much for your call. I hope that you’re obtaining everything you wanted from the extra sleep.”

_Beep_.

_**Message received July 19, 2020.** _

“I can’t recall whether or not you mentioned receiving the numerous messages that I left when we spoke on the telephone at the beginning of this month, but I do hope that these voice recordings aren’t tiresome for you to listen to. Oh, dear. Probably I should have considered this before I started leaving you so many. You understand, though, don’t you? Oh, dear. I truly don’t want to be a bother, I simply... I miss you, Crowley. I miss you very much and I wish you weren’t sleeping. There, I said it.”

_**Beep.** _

_**Message received July 19, 2020, five minutes later.** _

“But I _don’t_ want to be a bother, so I shall stop calling.”

_**Beep.** _

_**Message received July 31, 2020.** _

“I tried very hard to restrain myself, but upon reflection I’ve realized that you are under no obligation to listen to these messages if they distress you in any way, and I believe there is no reason for me to stop sending them to you. In light of this, allow me to tell you..."

_**Lengthy story (in which Aziraphale details his many dealings with the day’s customers) ommitted.** _

_**Message received August 18, 2020.** _

“I’ve found myself foolishly hoping that you’ll wake early quite frequently. I miss you dearly, Crowley. I know I’ve said it before, and I know that we have spent significantly longer apart in the past, but I... Well. I miss you. I hope you’re enjoying your nap. I’m sure it’s vastly preferable to the experience those of us that are more or less awake are having.”

_**Beep** _ _._

_**Message received September 8, 2020.** _

“There’s - _hic_ \- there’s something else. A reason. For me to want to call - _hic_ \- you. I... (A pause, some displeased sounds) Ah. I think I was quite drunk. Forgive my impropriety.”

_**Beep.** _

_**Message received September 12, 2020.** _

“(a long silence) Crowley - (a sharp intake of breath) I think I love you, you know. Not - bother it all. Of _course_ I love you - how could I not? We’ve been working together for six thousand years, after all. We _are_ friends. We have _always_ been friends. I have _never_ thought you a foul fiend. But I don’t just love you - it’s not just friendship, is it? Not for me. Or for you, I don’t think. This probably isn’t the time or place to tell you this, is it? I apologize. (Not for loving you. I’m through apologizing for loving you.)

_**Beep.** _

_**Message received September 13, 2020.** _

“Oh, dear. I suspect that I may have said some very... _forward_ things last night. I‘ve been drinking a smidge more than might be deemed strictly advisable, lately. This is no excuse, of course, and I apologize for whatever... sentiment I may have communicated. (pause) Although you’re not likely to hear this until much later, are you?

**_Beep._ **

**_Message received September 21, 2020._ **

“I know what I said and I meant it, I meant it, I _meant_ it.”

_**Beep.** _

_**Message received September 29, 2020.** _

“Did you know, Crowley, that time has _never_ moved so slowly as it has since you’ve started sleeping? Never. Not once in my very long life have I experienced this absolutely torturous sense of _waiting_.”

_**Beep.** _

_**Message received September 30, 2020.** _

“I’ve made up my mind. Tomorrow morning I shall come and hang on your doorbell until you wake up and let me in, and I am... Heaven help me, Crowley, I am _going_ to tell you. I love you. I’ll see you in the morning.

I love you.”

**_Beep_.**

***

Crowley wakes to the sound of his doorbell ringing incessantly and _incredibly_ obnoxiously. His mind is fuzzy and so are his teeth and his body isn’t quite sure how to be awake and his brain is even less so. 

“Abubwefgsh,” he says, trying to remember how to use words. 

The doorbell rings louder.

“Aghckssssss,” says Crowley, covering his ears and scrunching up his face. 

What... What...

Day. Awake. Sleep. Long. 

Aziraphale.

He sits up. 

It’s very unlikely, of course, why would Aziraphale be at his flat, but the thought is thrilling and apparently enough to get him out of bed.

He’s much more wobbly than normal (he remembers having trouble walking after his century-long nap, too) but manages to make it to the door.

He opens it without checking the peephole, because he’s never used the peephole in his life, and promptly wishes that he _had_ checked, because now he’s...

Now he’s even more discombobulated than he was before. 

Aziraphale is here. He’s here, and that makes Crowley’s head spin, and he’s brushing past Crowley into the apartment, and that’s making Crowley’s heart do some impressive acrobatics, and, worst of all, he’s _smiling_.

“Good morning, darling!” he says brightly, turning to face Crowley.

“Ngaaaaaaagh,” says Crowley, trying to shield his eyes. He can’t _handle_ a smiley Aziraphale this early in the morning. It’s too...

Hang on.

“Azzzzzzzmbrflwumph,” says Crowley, trying to address the ‘darling’ situation.

“I’ve missed you dearly,” continues Aziraphale, ignoring Crowley’s inner turmoil, “and during my time without you it occurred to me that I have not told you I love you.”

That stops all of Crowley’s thought processes faster than any thought processes have ever stopped before. When some semblance (although the resemblance is very, very slight) of capable thought returns, he finds that he has been emitting a high-pitched, teakettle-like noise for an indeterminate amount of time. Also, he’s crying.

“Oh, my dear,” says Aziraphale, hands fluttering between them. Crowley is _not_ awake enough for this. Crowley cries harder. “Oh, dear, oh, dear,” says Aziraphale, distinctly distressed. “I ought to have waited until you were more awake.”

“ _Yesssssssssssssss you bloody well should have_ ,” sobs Crowley, and then Aziraphale murmurs something apologetic and asks if he can hug Crowley. Crowley is incapable of communicating at all but somehow Aziraphale understands him anyway and pulls him into a hug that is tight and warm and safe and comforting. He immediately feels better but continues crying for awhile, feeling embarrassed but unable to pull himself together. Eventually he slows to a few shuddering gasps every so often, and then he tugs away from Aziraphale.

“Sssssorry,” he says, “I don’t - I can’t - ”

“Oh, my dearest,” says Aziraphale, still looking incredibly concerned. “No need to apologize. That was my fault. Horribly inconsiderate of me. I had months to come to terms with my feelings, and you - ”

“Love you more than anything, ‘ziraphale, c - ” his body does the post-intense-crying-session thing where it interrupts him because he needs to take deep breaths - ”’course I do. Always have.”

“Oh, _Crowley_ ,” says Aziraphale, eyes shining, and Crowley would kiss him right then and there except he’s not even breathing evenly yet and he probably looks a right mess and also he _just_ woke up.

Suddenly it is all _very_ much and he crosses his arms in front of himself. He _wants_ to take Aziraphale’s hand, but knows instinctively that it would be Too Much.

“Want some breakfast?” he asks, and Aziraphale beams at him. He squints, scowling and muttering something about silly bright angels, and makes for the kitchen to scramble some eggs.

***

Later, they will talk about things properly. Later, there will be first kisses. Later, Crowley will sit down and listen to all of Aziraphale’s messages and cry again.

But for now, sitting in his kitchen, sipping his coffee and watching Aziraphale ‘mm’ his way through breakfast and feeling scattered and hot and unable to think directly about what just happened, he _knows,_ for the first time ever, that Aziraphale loves him back. 

It is more than enough.

**Author's Note:**

> We see that, once again, I am physically unable to write Love Confessions without Tears.


End file.
